Beyazit Tower
Istanbul University
Beyazit Square
Istanbul, Turkey
19 March 2010
A cool breeze blew in from the Golden Horn, the inlet of the Bosphorus River. Lourds stood with the breeze in his face and smelt the salt of the sea.
From his vantage point at the top of Beyazit Tower, he could see all the Old City, both banks of the Golden Horn and the mouth of the Sea of Marmara. If he squinted, he could even see Princes’ Islands where he had once taken Olympia Adnan to picnic. Travel there was by horse and cart, and the pace was a lot slower than on the mainland. Many of the cottages and dwellings dated back to Victorian times when the island became a vacation resort for the wealthy. Throughout the history of the islands, royalty had been banished there again and again. European kings and princes had been followed by sultans as Constantinople fell to be reborn as Istanbul. As a seaport and as a tie between the East and the West, the city had never had a peer.
The tower had been constructed of wood in 1749, then burned during the Great Fire of Cibali seven years later. Due to its importance as a fire-watch station, the tower had been rebuilt almost immediately, but it had been once more made of wood. It wasn’t until after the tower’s destruction in 1826 that the existing stone tower had been built in 1828. The baroque architecture made it look like something out of a fantasy story.
Three more floors were added an 1849 so the watchman could signal the approach of unfriendly ships as well as where fire was located in the city. During the day, baskets of different numbers were lowered to indicate where the fire was. At night, coloured lamps were lit to replace the basket system.
Lourds easily imagined what it had been like during those early years. The watchman stationed there would have found work and hobbies to fritter away the long boring hours between fires and excitement. No matter how the years passed, there were things in human experience that never changed.
‘You’re smiling.’
Lourds turned to face Olympia. ‘Of course I’m smiling. I’m standing at the top of the Beyazit Tower. All the times I’ve visited Istanbul, I’ve never climbed the tower.’
‘You have to have special permission.’
‘I know. I was told. On every occasion I asked.’
Olympia smiled. ‘And if you wanted to climb the tower so badly, why didn’t you ask me?’
‘I didn’t want to embarrass you in case you couldn’t make it happen.’
Olympia arched her brows. ‘Did you doubt I could make it happen?’
‘Never. Your connections have surprised me.’
‘So were you just smiling? Or is there somebody else?’
Lourds reached for her and pulled her into his embrace. ‘Actually, I was thinking about the picnic on Princes’ Islands.’
Olympia snuggled into him and held his hands. She felt warm against him and smelt of lavender.
‘When we missed the ferry and ended up stranded for the night?’
‘In the rain, as I recall.’
‘Obviously I remember it more romantically than you do.’
‘No, you remember it because it was the one and only time I submitted to sex outdoors.’
‘See?’ Lourds nipped her neck with his teeth. ‘Romantic.’
‘I remember being cold and wet.’
‘We couldn’t be romantic all night. Besides, the rain was refreshing.’
‘Maybe to you, but I stay at the university and do research. I’m fond of my creature comforts. You like a little hardship. That’s why I don’t go chasing after artefacts while being shot at, and you do.’
‘You really don’t know what you’re missing.’
Olympia broke free of his arms and turned to face him. Her smile held the hint of sadness. ‘I beg to differ.’ She stroked his face softly. ‘I have a very good idea of what I’m missing.’
Lourds stood frozen for a moment, not knowing what to say.
Olympia laughed at him.
‘You were quite brilliant in class today. The students loved you, but I knew they would.’
‘You’ve got a good group,’ Lourds told her.
‘I know. So how are you doing on your secret project? With all this attention aimed at me, you can’t be doing very well. You use sex as a distraction when you’re stymied.’
Lourds feigned displeasure. ‘I am also quite capable of being distracted by a beautiful woman, I’ll have you know.’
‘I’ll take that in the spirit in which it was intended, as the sincerest form of flattery, but I do know the truth. You’ve hit a wall.’
‘Not true.’
Olympia’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘You’ve translated the piece?’
‘I did.’
‘That’s incredible. Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because we were both agreeing that you’re very distracting.’
‘You could have come to me earlier and told me the good news.’
Lourds shook his head, feeling the excitement inside him build anew. The last two days had been a marathon of nearly exhausting sleeplessness. Despite the fact that Olympia had come back to the hotel with him every night, sex had only drugged him into unconscious for a few hours at a stretch.
‘There was no good news until I visited this tower,’ he said. ‘The final pieces of the encryption finally tumbled into my head while I was climbing the stairs. Two hundred and eighty-six steps, I believe.’
‘Is it an artificial language?’
‘Actually, that was partly where I was wrong. There’s not one artificial language involved in that writing, there are three. And there’s a complicated substitution system for the three languages that must have depended on some kind of random generator.’
‘A random generator?’
‘Imagine the game Twister. You have played Twister, haven’t you?’
‘Of course. When I was a girl.’
‘Remember the spinner?’
Olympia nodded. ‘It gave the directions on where to put your hands and feet.’
‘Exactly. Left foot, green. Right hand, red. That kind of thing. That’s actually two languages in a sense.’
‘I’m not following. I’m only seeing one language: the directions.’
‘That’s because you’re processing both languages at the same time,’ Lourds said. ‘The spinner actually translates into a physical movement language and a visual acuity language, if you follow me. The spinner is divided into quadrants-’
‘For the hands and feet,’ Olympia interrupted, ‘and the colours for the vision. Two languages.’
Lourds smiled. ‘Now you’ve got it.’
‘So what is your mysterious book about?’
‘It deals with the location of something called the Joy Scroll.’
All the animation drained from Olympia’s face.
Concerned, Lourds put his hand on her shoulder to steady her. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I am. But this is just so unexpected.’ Olympia seemed flustered. ‘I mean not really unexpected. Of course I hoped for something like this, but I didn’t know if you’d be able to manage a translation. Hundreds of people for the last two thousand years have tried to do what you have just done. And not one of them has been successful.’
‘You knew about this book?’
Olympia struggled to collect her thoughts. ‘I knew about the book, but I’d never seen it before. No one I know has ever seen it before. Several of us had begun to think it was just a legend. Or if it had existed that it had been destroyed.’
Lourds seized her by the shoulders. ‘Olympia. Olympia, look at me.’
She did, but he could tell she still wasn’t completely with him. Suddenly, the uneasiness he’d experienced down in the catacombs swept through him again.
‘What are you talking about? How did you know about this book? What is the Joy Scroll?’
She took his hand and looked up at him. ‘Do you trust me?’
Lourds didn’t know how to answer.
‘Please, Thomas, we’ve been friends – more than friends – for years. In all that time, I’ve never asked you for anything big. I’m asking you now to please trust me.’
‘All right,’ he answered, and hoped he didn’t live – or die – to regret it.
Central Business District
King Abdullah Economic City, Saudi Arabia
19 March 2010
Standing at the window of the luxury office building’s top floor, Elliott Webster looked out over the shimmering green waves of the Red Sea. His thoughts were of the past, of the empires that had risen and fallen along the coast. All of them were dust now, except for a few buildings and structures here and there.
The new empire King Abdullah bin Abdulaziz Al Saud had given his life to took shape all around Webster. Construction crews and earthmoving machines pieced together the steel bones of the tall buildings and carved foundations and streets from the baked sand. Noise filled the area which even the soundproofing of the room couldn’t eliminate. The muted throbbing vibrated the window.
One of the most impressive areas of the new city lay out in the harbour only a short distance from the coast. Several buildings jutted up from the outer perimeter of the island. Sunlight splintered on the steel frameworks where men walked along narrow beams and continued building for the sky. The centre of the island held more buildings as well as a grid pattern of streets and elevated highways. To the right, the designers had used the natural harbour to echo the island’s shape. The large, sickle-shaped marina held a flotilla of ships, yachts and boats. Most of those vessels were pleasure craft but some of them were barges that carried materials and equipment to the construction crews.
‘What are they calling the island?’ Stephen Napier asked. He stood at Webster’s side.
‘Financial Island,’ Webster answered.
‘Catchy,’ Napier said sarcastically.
‘Maybe it sounds better in Arabic,’ Tristan Hamilton drawled. He stood only a short distance away, leaning with one arm on the window.
‘You gotta admit, naming the place that, they’re hanging it right out there for everybody to see. Ain’t trying to hide what it is.’ Spider sat in one of the plush chairs using his laptop.
Vicky DeAngelo stood on the other side of the spacious room, one hip cocked against a credenza. She talked rapidly on her sat-phone, outlining the agenda she wanted her film crews to follow throughout the city. While on the flight over to Saudi Arabia, she had put together plans for a television special. Webster appreciated her business acumen and drive. It was those qualities that had made him seek her out. She had also made tentative agreements with Saudi Arabian advertisers to underwrite the cost of the special’s production.
‘It’s gonna be a pretty city when they finish up,’ Hamilton stated, ‘but it looks a mite under-defended, if you ask me.’
‘The Saudi Royal Navy is out there,’ Webster said.
‘So are American ships,’ Napier said. ‘I’m willing to bet that the American navy is going to keep more troublemakers out of the area than the Saudis.’
Webster nodded. That was one of the selling points he hoped to push to the young king. Instead of persuading him to listen, though, Webster was certain Prince Khalid would take the suggestion as a personal affront. In fact, the vice-president was counting on that fact. Khalid’s youthfulness and inexperience, as well as his burning desire to drive the Shia people from his homeland, should be enough to tip the scales towards war. And if that wasn’t enough, the intel that Dawson had only that morning passed along through informants he had access to within the country would. Webster was waiting for it all to hit the fan.
In the meantime, he would look like a hero, the man trying to put a lid on the seething cauldron that was the Middle East. When everything was said and done, Webster knew he would be seen as a saviour, even when his initial efforts were unsuccessful. That thought caused him to smile.
‘What’s on your mind?’ Hamilton asked. ‘You look like the cat that ate the canary.’
‘Building confidence,’ Webster replied. ‘Stockpiling positive energy.’
‘That’s good, because me, I’m feeling like the canary about now.’
‘It’s going to work out,’ Webster said. ‘Believe me, once the dust settles on this thing, we’re all going to be in a lot better places.’
At that moment, Hamal, Prince Khalid’s representative, entered the room. He had met them at the airport and been with them ever since. He was a burly man in his early forties with swarthy skin and a fierce forked beard. His scarred calloused hands testified to harsh years and a hard life. As a counterpoint, his white thawb and ghutra were immaculate.
A lot of people might overlook and underestimate the man, Webster realized. He wasn’t among them.
‘Mr Vice-President Webster,’ Hamal said politely, his black eyes roving over the group. ‘Prince Khalid will see you and your guests now. If you will follow me.’
‘Of course,’ Webster said, and did.
The opulent offices showcased wealth, privilege and power. They were furnished with expensive furniture, rugs and computer images of the proposed look of KAEC – what the locals called King Abdullah Economic City – when it was finished hung on the walls.
‘Ostentatious much?’ Vicky whispered.
‘Presentation is everything,’ Webster whispered back.
‘Not when it’s overkill.’
Six guards armed with machine pistols stood in front of a heavy security door that bore the coat of arms of Saudi Arabia – a palm tree over crossed swords. One of the guards stepped towards them and motioned the other guard forward. In short order, Webster was frisked and checked with a wand metal detector.
One of the men held out a straw basket.
‘Please put your phones and PDAs into the basket. They will be returned to you once you are out of his excellency’s office.’
Webster led the way by putting his Blackberry into the basket. The others followed suit. Then the door was opened.
Prince Khalid, dressed in a flowing thawb and ghutra, stood facing a wall of polarized glass that held the bright afternoon sun at bay. Six feet tall and slim, he didn’t look imposing in any way, but his manner compensated for this. Rigid defiance moulded his stance. He held his hands behind his back as he looked down on the city like a predatory raptor. He wore two large pistols holstered at his waist and a curved sword was sheathed down his back. Wearing weapons in public was something his father would never have allowed, but the prince looked like a warrior born.
Webster noted the young prince’s reflection in the polarized glass. Khalid had his father’s long hooked nose and sharp hawk’s eyes that gave his handsome features a dangerous edge. His beard was short and patchy, not quite filled in, giving him the appearance of a young man trying to appear much more mature than his tender years allowed. If he hadn’t been who he was, Webster might have been inclined to feel sorry for the young prince suddenly plunged in over his head.
Khalid flicked his gaze to Webster, held his eyes full measure for a moment, then looked across at the others. His lips pursed in disdain, as if they had failed to come up to his standards.
‘Prince Khalid,’ Hamal said, ‘I present to you the Vice-President of the United States, Elliott Webster.’
Knowing that the next move needed to be the young prince’s, Webster stood his ground. ‘Good afternoon, Prince Khalid. On behalf of the United States, President Waggoner and myself, I’d like to express our condolences at the recent losses you’ve suffered. Your father was a good man and a great friend to my country. He’ll be missed by us all.’
‘Thank you, Mr Webster. You are most kind.’ Khalid’s voice was almost a monotone, and Webster could hear the sharp edge of anger underlying his words. ‘However, you’re not here entirely to offer your support in my time of grief, are you?’
‘No,’ Webster said. ‘That’s the price a head of state must pay. Your personal life is for ever entangled with your leadership.’
‘So my advisors tell me.’ Khalid knotted his left fist and placed it against the window. ‘I did not wish to see you today, but they told me I must.’
‘Perhaps it might be better if we came back at a later time,’ Webster suggested.
Khalid turned to face them and fury tightened his face. ‘That wouldn’t do, would it? As soon as it was found out, and it would be found out because you have brought Ms DeAngelo with you, that I refused to meet you, my choice would be seen as weakness. Isn’t that true?’
‘Your Excellency, I mean no disrespect, but these are trying times for us all. The world has grown more tightly knit over the past few decades. Your father’s death-’
‘It was murder,’ Khalid’s snapped. ‘Call it what it was or don’t speak of it at all.’
Stung, Webster had to remind himself that this was the attitude he needed from the young prince. Still, it was hard to take. He nodded. ‘Your father’s murder is going to impact the world.’
‘Strange, isn’t it? That no one thought to tell him that his life impacted the world.’
‘I enjoyed a good friendship with your father.’
‘He talked of you a lot,’ Khalid agreed. ‘If not for your diplomacy in this area, your country might not have had the oil agreements they currently enjoy.’
‘What’s been good for my country has also been good for your country.’
‘I’m afraid that’s where we’re going to have to disagree.’ Khalid paused. ‘With all due respect intended, of course.’ He waved to the city on the other side of the polarized glass. ‘It has taken time for my people to realize that our future lies here, not with the United States or the Western world.’
‘What do you mean?’ Vicky asked. ‘Many of your people love the United States and the Western world.’
‘That is because your country and others have seduced my people for generations,’ Khalid said. ‘Outsiders have shown them a way of life that can never be theirs. We live under Allah and the teachings of his prophet, Muhammed, not the god of excess and extravagance as you people live.’
‘Your father never felt-’
Khalid’s voice rose in anger. ‘My father and many of his advisers were just as seduced as those fools who follow your ways. He harboured vipers in his breast, and in the end they murdered him.’
‘I don’t remember anyone saying they knew who murdered your father,’ Webster said.
‘It was the Shia. I have no doubt of this. They have grown more emboldened since your country invaded Iraq and put those godless people into power.’ Khalid’s dark eyes blazed. ‘You were warned about what you did, yet your government chose to do it anyway.’
‘Forgive me, Your Excellency, but I didn’t come here to argue over the war in that country. That war doesn’t have anything to do with this.’
‘If you think that, you’re a fool. That war is part of the war that has gone on between the Sunni and the Shia since those unworthies chose to name prophets of their own and reject the will of Allah and his prophet, Muhammed.’
‘Saddam Hussein was a sadistic dictator who menaced the world,’ Hamilton snarled, taking a step forward. ‘If we’d let him be, he might eventually have put his boot on the back of your neck. Brave American servicemen put their lives on the line to preserve the peace in the Middle East. I won’t have you talking ill of them.’
One of Khalid’s personal guards took a step forward, but Webster threw out a hand to stop Hamilton, and Khalid gestured to his men to stay back. The prince’s right hand wrapped round the butt of one of his pistols.
‘No man will put his boot on my neck,’ Khalid said in a low, threatening voice. ‘I promise you that.’
‘Perhaps we could all take a step back,’ Webster suggested. The situation was getting out of control faster than he’d thought it would. Part of him was glad to see that, but he knew he had at least to appear to keep control of things.
‘What your government did was mask its villainy and greed as patriotism,’ Khalid growled. ‘China’s economy has been steadily rising, and they’ve been able to match your dwindling American dollars for oil. My country, in fact all the Middle East, would be better served to sell oil to China and India than to the United States. Our profits will be greater and the risk will be less.’
‘Until the Chinese decide to annex the Middle East,’ Napier said evenly. ‘It’s been a habit with them for millennia, you know.’
‘Ah, Mr Napier, I was wondering when you would have something to say. To counter your supposition, the United States never managed to annex the Middle East, although they certainly succeeded in making their presence felt, so what makes you think the Chinese would be any more fortunate?’
‘Americans aren’t inclined to pursue war unilaterally -’ the prince snorted in derision – ‘with a very few exceptions,’ Napier continued smoothly. ‘And our recent experiences in that arena have confirmed our reluctance to do so as good policy.’
‘The Chinese can roll an army right into your country,’ Hamilton said. ‘Do you really think you’ve got soldiers and hardware that will stand up to them? Or even be willing to stand up to them?’
‘I would sooner choose to believe that than that the United States would stay to protect us. Your country doesn’t have a good record of defending other nations when the price gets too high.’ Khalid said. ‘And your people, your soldiers, wouldn’t be fighting for my people. They would be fighting for the oil.’
‘Common interests,’ Hamilton said. ‘That’s what makes brothers of people.’
Khalid lifted his eyebrows. ‘So now we’re brothers? Then I suppose it was your father and brother who were murdered also?’
Hamilton cursed beneath his breath.
‘Familial relationships notwithstanding,’ Webster said, ‘we do have common interests.’
‘We sell, you buy,’ Khalid said. ‘We could have that relationship with anyone. The United States, however, can’t. Your people depend on us for oil, but now we find ourselves surrounded by people who could depend on us for the same thing without having any of them meddle in our business and seek to impose restrictions on how we handle our relations with other nations in this area.’
‘We have domestic oil wells that can pony up and deliver more oil if we need to,’ Hamilton threatened.
‘So you say. Yet, when oil prices soared, your country paid and didn’t aggressively seek to increase domestic production.’ Khalid shook his head. ‘No, your government worries about the domestic supply of oil and they hoard what they possess like a fearful widow.’
Hamilton turned to Webster. ‘It ain’t worth it to talk to this joker.’
‘Your country,’ Khalid went on, ‘has made a habit of becoming friends with an oil-producing country, forcing economic treaties on them through bribery and coercion, rewarding the handful that hold the most power in that country while ignoring the struggling masses, then siphoning the oil away until there’s nothing left. When the oil is gone, so is the goodwill. My country is not some road kill waiting for carrion birds to pick her bones clean.’
‘Your Excellency,’ Webster said, ‘that’s not what we’re here to do.’
‘Nonsense,’ Khalid said. ‘That’s exactly what you’ve been doing for years. Let’s fantasize for a moment. Let’s say that China does indeed decide to take advantage of us and invade because we insist on trading with United States and our output cannot meet the demands of both countries. Let’s fantasize further and say that the United States even chooses to enter a land war against the Chinese.’ He turned his attention to Napier. ‘And let’s say Mr Napier’s corporation became successful in finding an alternative fuel energy source that is competitive in price – maybe even slightly higher than the cost of oil.’ The prince’s voice became even quieter but had a harder edge to it. ‘How long do you think it would take America to withdraw its armies?’
‘Those things you worry about are a long way off,’ Webster said. ‘It would take an enormous amount of time to turn a country like ours around from petroleum-based products to something else.’
‘Perhaps in your vision.’ Khalid looked out at the city again. ‘Not in mine. That future lies just round the corner. I have seen this future in my dreams. My father would never recognize that it exists.’
‘Maybe it would be better if we could talk again in a few days,’ Webster replied. ‘When your mind is more settled.’
Khalid faced him. ‘My mind is settled. I have not had myself crowned king today because I chose to wait for that honour until after my father’s and family’s murders are resolved. Then I will take my crown, and I will take my people. I will initiate a cleansing of my country. All those who live within our borders who do not live according to the rules of the Prophet will be driven out or killed. I will not be merciful or foolish as my father was. I know who my enemies are, and I will not suffer them to live in my kingdom.’
‘My God,’ Vicky whispered.
Webster noted the fear that had settled into his companions.
He rejoiced.
They would return to their hotel rooms and spread that fear to others among them who had money and investments in the Middle East. Panic would ensue. It wouldn’t just end with the collapse of confidence in the economic sectors in America and the Western world. It would also affect the military when the Pentagon realized how many of its soldiers and materials might be at risk. It looked like his timetable for the Middle East meltdown had just escalated.
‘How are you going to resolve your father’s murder?’ Webster asked.
‘I will find the Shia assassins responsible, and I will have them executed. I have military teams already closing in on the men behind that cowardly attack.’
Webster knew that was only because Colonel Anthony Eckart had left a false trail behind him leading to known Shia dissidents within Saudi Arabia. The frame would be believable. And in the end, who knew? Those Shia dissidents might even claim credit for killing the king and his family members.
Khalid focused on Webster. ‘There is another matter I would speak to you about. Perhaps you could help.’
‘Of course, if I can.’
Khalid nodded to one of his personal guards, who walked to another door and opened it. The guard led another man into the room. He was in his twenties. White gauze covered his left cheek and his right forearm. Scabs clung to recent lacerations all over his body. He walked with a limp.
‘Do you know this man?’ Khalid asked.
Webster made a show of looking at the man, but didn’t recognize him. ‘No. Am I supposed to?’
The man stood trembling, sucking in air and looking at the floor as if afraid to look anywhere else.
‘His name is Farok,’ Khalid said. ‘He came to me seeking asylum. He claims to have worked for your CIA.’
‘I wouldn’t know anything about that.’
Khalid smiled, but the expression was frosty and distant. ‘I suppose if it were true or false, you would deny it all the same.’
Webster didn’t bother to reply.
‘He insists that the CIA hired him and his friends to abduct a man from Ataturk International Airport only a few days ago. A man named Professor Thomas Lourds. Do you know that man?’
‘I know who he is, of course. That story of the attack on him has been in the news. The last I heard, Professor Lourds had been allowed to stay in Istanbul to pursue his studies.’
‘He has,’ Khalid commented. ‘This one managed to elude the police, but he brought back an interesting story. Would you like to hear it?’
Webster made himself remain calm. This wasn’t at all expected. ‘Of course, Your Excellency. If you think it’s of interest.’
‘This story is of interest.’ Khalid walked behind the trembling man and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘This man went on to tell me that not only was he supposed to take this professor captive, but he was also supposed to find out if the professor was in possession of a document.’
‘A document?’
‘Yes, evidently something of historical significance regarding Istanbul’s religious history. Do you know anything about that?’
‘No,’ Webster lied. He throttled back his anger that somewhere there had been a leak. It had been ill-timed luck after all that the Joy Scroll had turned up at the same time he was making his move on the Middle East. Dawson should never have told anyone they were looking for a religious manuscript.
‘Perhaps,’ Khalid suggested in a neutral tone, ‘you could make enquiries when you have the time.’
‘Of course.’
‘Istanbul is an important city to my people’s history.’
‘And to mine.’
‘Muslims and Christians have warred there for centuries,’ Khalid acknowledged. ‘That city contains the histories of both our cultures, and any religious documentation would be of great interest to me.’
‘I understand.’
‘I have sent a contingent of warriors to Istanbul in hopes of securing that document.’
‘If it exists,’ Webster countered.
Khalid stepped back from the handcuffed man. ‘It is no secret to me that there are spies among my people. I know some of them belong to you. This man feared for his life, and he came to my father seeking absolution for his sins against us. Is this not true, Farok?’
‘Yes, my king.’
‘My father would have forgiven him and perhaps sought to find a way to use Farok to find out more of what the CIA wishes to know about my country.’
Vicky suddenly closed her hand over Webster’s. Her nails bit into his palm. ‘My God,’ she whispered, and turned her head away.
Evidently sensing what was about to come, the handcuffed man tried to turn round and duck at the same time. He raised his hands to defend himself. With a quick movement, Khalid whipped the sword from his back. He slashed sideways at the man standing in front of him. The blade cut through the prisoner’s hands and caught the man just under his jaw line. The keen edge passed cleanly through flesh and bone. Blood sprayed over Khalid and the window as severed fingers rained to the floor and wriggled. Crimson stained the prince’s thawb, ghutra, and face. He stood without flinching.
The decapitated man dropped to the floor and sprawled as he jerked through the final moments of his life.
Khalid knelt and cleaned his sword on the dead man’s clothing before returning the weapon to the sheath across his back. Then he stood and addressed Webster.
‘I am not my father,’ the prince said as blood trickled down his grim features. ‘I will not be betrayed. And this country will become strong in its faith in God. My enemies will not be forgiven or ignored.’ He stepped over the corpse. ‘Do you understand, Vice-President Webster?’
‘Of course.’ Webster had to work to sound shocked. He was surprised by Khalid’s personal bloodthirstiness, but that trait would only make his plans work out better.
However, the prince’s knowledge of the events in Istanbul could pose a problem there. But Webster reconciled himself with knowing Eckart and his men should be on the ground there now. The prince would be too late.
Thomas Lourds would be in Webster’s custody again soon.